


Arabian Dusk

by Untherius



Category: Lawrence of Arabia
Genre: Gen, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 17:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Untherius/pseuds/Untherius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daud and Farraj were the closest of friends.  An experience at an oasis prepares them for the violence they would later encounter while serving with Lawrence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arabian Dusk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val Mora (valmora)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valmora/gifts).



Arabian Dusk

Farraj stared off across the desert, lost in thought. Although merely a boy in the eyes of many, he had seen more than many men twice his age. His mind wandered back several years to his earlier childhood, to when life was if not easier, at least simpler. He and his dearest friend Daud had herded a small flock of sheep toward their next destination, one of many unnamed oases peppered throughout western Arabia.

As they crested the rise, they beheld a sight neither of them expected. The place was in chaos, at least so it looked from that distance. As they neared, a more grim picture unfolded and the hair began to rise on the backs of their necks. They could see several bodies lying about and a great pyre burning nearby. They hoped the water had not been fouled.

They stood there, staring, and as they did so, two men approached. One was several years their senior and was clearly quite agitated. The other was grey-haired and wore an expression of deep sorrow.

"Masa' ilXir," said Farraj.

"Masa' innur," said the elder.

"How can there be anything but darkness here?" interjected the younger.

"Peace, my son," replied the elder, "now is not the time."

"But father..."

"Silence!" He turned back to Farraj. "Please forgive my son. We have had a...most difficult day."

"What happened?" asked Daud.

"You would not believe me if I told you."

"What would we not believe?"

"You should go," said the younger.

"But we just arrived and we need water. You know how far it is to the next."

"Then we will bring it to you. It has not been fouled, ilhamdulillah."

"And our sheep?"

"They will have water, too. But you must wait here."

"But why?"

"Perhaps we should tell them, father."

The old man looked thoughtfully at his son. "Perhaps you are right." He turned to Farraj and Daud. "But know now that you were warned. These are the things of which nightmares are made. Only Ibilis himself would inflict such things upon the living. Follow us." With that, he whirled around and strode off toward the water's edge.

That did not bode well. As Daud and Farraj followed, they saw that the pyre was actually a small pile of burning corpses which, from where they walked, appeared to have been beheaded. Several wounded people were seated or lying on the ground in a row. If the hair on their necks could have risen any more, it would have flown away. Their eyes grew wide.

After they had drunk their fill, all four of them sat down beneath the shade of a palm.

"Two days ago, we walked over the rise, much like you, and surveyed chaos, unlike you. There were two groups of men: Turkish soldiers; and three men in rags who appeared to be attacking them."

"They were not men," interrupted the son, "Men do not do... THAT." The father glared at him.

Farraj and Daud looked at each other. "Do what?" asked Daud.

"There was much shooting and shouting and screaming and confusion. Whenever a soldier drew near to one of these men, he reached out, grabbed him, they struggled for a few minutes, then the soldier fell to the ground. This happened over and over again. I had a very bad feeling about this, yet all we could do was stand there and watch.

"When all but those three were still, we slowly approached. One of them saw us and let out an unearthly moan, raised its arms and began trudging toward us, followed shortly by the other two. All attempts to communicate were ignored. It was as though they were drunk on western wine, or eastern opium, or worse. As they drew closer, we could see they had blood all over their mouths and then my very bad feeling became a sense of utter dread. On a hunch, I shot one in the head. He immediately fell down dead, but neither of the other two appeared to notice. I shot them in the head as well. If this was murder, then I pray that Allah will be merciful with me."

"The jinns..." began the son.

"No," interrupted the father, "these were not jinns, nor do I think they were simply men possessed. Nowhere in all our tales and traditions have the jinns been held responsible for such carnage. No, this was something else, something so rarely encountered that we have no name for it."

"I don't understand," said Farraj, "How were these three... man-like creatures... so terrible to behold?"

"It gets worse," said the son.

"Indeed it does," said the father. "We dragged the bodies to the edge of the dunes where they now lie burning and set them on fire."

"Why?" asked Daud.

"We knew they had to at least be diseased and fire is the best way to destroy disease. We lined up the dead Turks much like you see my people over there." He gestured toward the several people lying in their row. Early the next morning, they all rose up and began attacking my people much like they themselves had been attacked."

"Didn't you say they were dead?" asked Farraj.

"Yes, I did. And they were."

"Then how did they rise up?" asked Daud.

"We do not know. That's what is so strange and terrible about the whole thing." The father paused for a moment and breathed deeply, as though fighting back tears. "Just as with the three in rags, none of them responded to anything, even when we began cutting off their limbs!"

"Is that why you beheaded them?" asked Daud.

The father and son looked at each other.

"We noticed that as we followed you," said Farraj, "but we thought our eyes were playing tricks on us."

"As did we. Beheading stopped their bodies, yes. Their heads, however, continued to snap and one even bit a cousin's finger. So we beheaded them all and tossed their bodies and heads onto the fire. By nightfall, all who had been bitten sickened and died. This morning, they, too, rose up and attacked a few more. Again, we beheaded the attackers and threw them into the fire. Those you see lined up over there are those who were bitten. Already they fall ill, and already a couple have died. A few begged for mercy before falling unconscious. My son wanted to, shall we say, release them, but I forbid it. Allah does not condone murder and if I have made the wrong decision, that burden shall rest solely upon me."

They heard a shout. Daud and Farraj looked over to see two of the people on the ground sit slowly up and start moaning. They had never heard anything like it and it chilled them to the bone.

"Observe," said the father. He stood up, took a few paces, and fired several shots into the corpses' chests. As he had described, they didn't respond. No blood even came from the wounds. Instead, they advanced straight toward him. A final bullet to each of their heads dropped them instantly.

"You see?" he said, "they are like walking corpses, both dead and not."

"But that's impossible," said Daud.

"I assure you, it is quite possible. You've seen it yourself. Soon they will be dead and we shall burn them like they others. I advise you to go before the sun sinks too low in the sky."

Farraj brought his mind back to the present. While little of what he'd seen since joining Lawrence had been nearly as strange as that, but much of it had been just as violent and sorrowful. He prayed that his dear friend Daud would not rise from the sand as one of those undead monsters. He didn't think he had it in him to shoot his own friend in the head like he knew would have to be done.


End file.
